


Stay Away from the Nose

by Lumielles



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Broken Bones, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Implied Sexual Content, Light Smut, Mild Sexual Content, Other, Romantic Tension, Sexual Humor, Surprise Sex, parenthood shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:48:38
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,064
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23191168
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lumielles/pseuds/Lumielles
Summary: When Idan trips the trap that Aramys and Brevom set up for the ghost they think it haunting their apartment on New Adasta, he ends up breaking his nose.  But Petra soon finds him and helps him bandage his broken nose and they find themselves caught up in a moment of intimacy after a years-long dry spell between them.
Relationships: Male Jedi Consular | Barsen'thor/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 1
Kudos: 3





	Stay Away from the Nose

**Author's Note:**

> Idan's nonbinary, but I'm tagging this f/m just to be safe.
> 
> Also, this takes place when Aramys is 6, Brevom is 10, Idan is 25, Petra, 26. About ten years before the base game starts.

It was with incredible force that Idan’s face met with the floor. Having just been polished—by him—it smelled faintly of citrus and, well, wood polish. Though it was only for a split second, he was able to catch the scent, for his nose promptly also connected with the floor. Being as it stuck out so far from the rest of his face, it was the first thing that hit. A stomach-churning crunch sent a shockwave of agony through his eye sockets, down his jaw and back around his skull until the top of his spine prickled like static. Then all the pain returned to his nose. He was pancaked against the floor, which was immaculately clean if he did say so himself.

Which he did.

At least, it _had_ been clean. As he slowly lifted his head, there was a gush in his nose. A familiar feeling, as was the sound of blood splattering onto the floor in a steady stream of drops. At least he hadn’t fallen on the 300-year-old carpet that lined the upstairs hallway. It would have been a much larger task to hand scrub that than it would be to mop a hardwood floor. And re-polish it. He reached up to try and stop the blood, but as his thumb and finger pinched the end of his nose, it felt like lightning had shot into his eye sockets.

“Kriff—“ he exhaled, sending a small spray of blood onto the wall in front of him. He added ‘clean the wall’ to his mental to-do list as he rested his forehead against his hand.

“Idan?” Petra called out from the top of the stairs, “I heard a thud.”

“That thud was me,” he looked up, still laying stomach down on the floor. He pushed himself up slowly, a headache had made itself known the second he’d looked up. Sitting up fully, he tried to fold his legs; a single string was wrapped around his ankles, one end still taped to the corner of the wall. It was the trap he’d seen Brevom and Aramys setting up earlier that afternoon. The one he’d told them to take down before someone got hurt. The apartment wasn’t haunted, though they were both convinced otherwise. He’d been telling them that all week—even if it was haunted, a tripwire wasn’t going to catch a ghost.

He should have watched them take it down. He would next time—there _would_ be a next time. There was no doubt in Idan’s mind about that.

“You’re bleeding!” Petra gasped, rushing to kneel beside him, “It’s all over your shirt.”

“You should see the other guy,” he let out an exhausted and pained chuckle before swatting her hand away as she reached out, “Don’t touch it! I think it’s broken.”

“Broken? How’d you manage that?”

Idan lifted the string in his hands up to her eye level, “Ghost trap.”

“What?” she tilted her head and rested back on her heels.

“I’ll tell you later,” he groaned, “Did the bleeding stop?”

“Look up,” she said softly, motioning upward with her hand.

Idan did as she said and tilted his head back, and his headache shifted from the front to the back of his head with alarming speed. Petra’s soft fingers held his chin gently, tilting his head back further as she peered up his nostrils like he was a set of macrobinoculars. 

“I think it’s over,” she said, letting go, “Come on, let’s clean you up.”

She extended her hand to him, the other held the shawl around her shoulders. He took it and assisted her in pulling him to his feet. Before he took his first step, he stumbled forward as the floor felt like it’d given way underneath him. Petra was quick to hook her arm around his, steadying him as they began to descend the stairs.

He felt a little silly. Like a rickety old man being assisted. There would be a time for that, far off in the future—Not now.

“You don’t have to hold onto me, I’m fine,” he insisted, trying to wiggle his arm away from her.

She laughed through her nose, almost snorting, “Darling, you’re all over the place—You’re walking like a drunkard.”

“I am?” Idan didn’t feel like he was, but… his head _had_ been spinning since he’d gotten up off the floor, “Oh.”

“Are we going to have to get you checked for a concussion?” she stopped at the bottom and pulled back one of his eyelids.

“Maybe,” he tried to squint against her hand, “What are you doing?”

“Checking pupillary response,” she said flatly.

“And?” he blinked as she pulled away, and began to twitch his nose out of habit—until the pain reminded him not to.

“I think you’re okay. Just a bit brain rattled. That must have been quite the fall.”

“Yes, well, those two sure are going to be hearing it from me tomorrow when they wake up,” he grumbled.

“Who?” she asked, hooking her arm back around his as they started moving towards their quarters at the back of the apartment.

“Brevom and Aramys.”

“Is this to do with that string you found?”

“The ghost trap.”

“Ghost trap?”

Idan sighed, he would have pinched the bridge of his nose if he hadn’t of just fallen on it, “They think the apartment is haunted because Aramys heard the Lady wandering around upstairs in the middle of the night.”

“And she convinced Brevom.”

“Of course, she always does.”

“That’s true, they’re quite the pair.”

“A pair of laserbrains. The stars themselves are in trouble the moment they’re free of this place.”

“One can only hope,” she said, stopping outside her door, “Go wait in my room, I’ll go get what we need.”

“I thought we’d just do this in the refresher—“

“There isn’t space for two people in there,” she shook her head, “Plus, I don’t want to wake the laserbrains.”

“I’m surprised they didn’t wake up when I hit the floor.”

“Go on,” she pushed him through the doorway after opening it for him, “I’ll be right there.”

He wordlessly entered. It’d been months since he’d last been here. Immediately he noticed the single yellow flower up on the chest of drawers, very dead and dried up after her three months of being away. He’d get her another at the market tomorrow, as he always did. A tradition of theirs that he’d started for no reason in particular. 

The light on her bedside table switched on at his approach, filling the cramped room with warm white light. The dark paint on the wall absorbed most of it, leaving the converted closet to feel a bit like the inside of a box. He preferred smaller spaces, he was used to them. But it was too dark, even with the white chest she had to try and brighten it. Or the dead yellow flower that sat atop it. 

Petra was in the doorway, the hallway lights making her little more than a five-foot silhouette. Idan momentarily worried about his bloody nose returning with a vengeance as he noticed she was wearing far less clothing than she had been before.

The dress she’d worn had been traded for a pair of frilly sleep shorts and a loose-fitting brown shirt that he was almost certain belonged to him and had gone missing some time ago. His eyes caught the top of her thigh, bare and nearly the color of alabaster—save for bright pink stretch marks. He stood abruptly, averting his wandering gaze to the floor as butterflies invaded his stomach. Relentlessly flying around and eating any word he could think of before he was able to say it. Except for one.

“Sorry,” he said, not entirely sure why.

“Why are you sorry?” she asked with a chuckle, closing her door behind her. She put the supplied she’d collected on her bedside table, a roll of bandage tape, gauze, and a bent piece of metal the size of her palm, “Take off your shirt.”

It felt like his heart had dropped through the thirty-four stories beneath them and was currently lodged in the lobby’s hand-painted tile floor. He’d have to go retrieve it later.

“Huh?” he looked her in the eyes, “Why?”

“Idan, it’s covered in blood.”

He looked down at himself slowly, as to not cause any more pain to his already tortured face. She was right; his dusted lavender blouse had more blood spatter on it that the walls of the Dark Council chamber after a game of musical chairs. Rather than pull it over his head as he would usually, he clumsily fumbled with the buttons all the way down the front. Petra climbed into the bed, tucking her legs beneath her as she perched by her pillows. As Idan tossed his shirt into the hamper at the foot of her bed, she patted the top of her thighs.

“Put your head here.”

Shirtless and embarrassed, Idan gave himself a quick hug as he lay back against her—heart pumped wildly in his ears the whole time. He blinked shyly up at her as she smiled down at him, looming over her within a canopy of her ash-blonde hair.

“I know this is going to hurt, but do try and stay still,” she ran a hand back through his hair, pushing away the curls that had settled against his forehead.

“I’ll do my best,” he breathed.

Petra sucked on her teeth as she dragged her thumb lightly against the purplish skin beneath his eyes, “Look at you already, you look like Aramys did your make up again.”

“Is it that bad?” he frowned. Last time she’d been allowed to paint his face, he walked away with far too much rouge and enough eyeshadow to cause respiratory failure if inhaled. Very much like popular graffiti depictions of Emperor Vitiate.

“It’s not great.”

“Maybe that’ll scare those little buttheads from doing this again.”

“It’ll likely scare Brev, but I think Aramys will like it.”

“She’ll think it’s great,” Idan laughed, “Ow…”

“I haven’t done anything yet.”

“I know... That one was me.”

“Oh,” she said sympathetically, as she ran a hand across his forehead again, “I’m doing to try and wipe away the blood; hold still.”

“Okay, go ahead.” Idan wiggled his bare shoulders to try and settle himself. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, “We don’t have any kolto, do we?”

“Not unless you want to go wake the Lady and ask for some,” she shook her head.

“I—” he sighed, “I can wait.”

A piece of gauze was lightly dabbed against the bottom of his nose, and while there was a tingle of pain, it was nothing compared to what he’d felt earlier. It was almost bearable. 

“I found a brace back from when the Lady’s son broke his nose—I don’t know if it’ll fit you. His nose is quite small.”

“Better than nothing,” Idan grumbled and opened his eyes, looking up at her with brows knitted together in worry, “It’s not crooked now, is it? Like jammed over to the side or something? That’s the last thing I need…”

Petra pulled back, studying him as he waited on her answer, her mouth stretched to one side.

“No,” she shook her head once, “I think it just got squished. It looks the same, only a bit swollen.”

“At least I have that going for me,” he sighed in relief.

“All clean,” she said with a few final light dabs of gauze, “I’m not going to lie, it’s probably going to hurt like the dickens when I put this on. She held the brace in her hand, hovering it over his face, ominously, “Tell me when you’re ready.”

He was never going to be ready.

“Ready,” he said.

Before he closed his eyes again, he tried to take one last deep breath. When he saw something that worried him.

“Why are _you_ closing _your_ eyes?” he demanded as he watched Petra shut her eyes tightly, “You’re going to stick it into my eyes or something!”

“Right,” her eyes shot open and smiled sheepishly, “Sorry. Still ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he grimaced, reluctantly closing his eyes, but only after he made sure Petra wasn’t going to close hers.

He felt something in his nose click before he heard it—the eye socket pain returned with a vengeance, and he exhaled sharply through gritted teeth. If it hadn’t been for his recent practice at self-control—an attempt to try and reign in his ever-evolving connection to the force—or he would have levitated off the bed and hit the ceiling. While in his mind he was doing just that, in reality he barely managed to let out a wheezy and weak “Ow…”

“That was easy!” Petra smiled down at him as he opened his watery, stinging eyes, “I thought that would have taken more effort.”

“Speak for yourself,” he wanted so badly to reach up and touch his nose. Instead, he settled for gingerly poking the brace with cautious fingertips.

“Stop touching it, I still have to tape it down,” she swatted at his hand playfully.

“That was almost enough to make me want to go wake the Lady,” he said—his nose completely blocked now. No air was getting through or coming out, “Oh no, I sound ridiculous!”

Petra secured one length of bandage tape across his nose and over his cheeks, followed quickly by another.

“It’s not so bad,” she said through held back laughter.

Idan tried to laugh as well, but with the brace firmly secured to his face, he honked. It wasn’t a laugh, though a laugh had been his intention. No, it was very clearly a honk. And he honked again, and again. He kept setting himself off with the previous honk.

“Oh, dear,” Petra’s hand flew to her mouth as she tried to close the wide smile that’d formed, “That’s quite the sound.”

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me… I can’t scold the kids like this! I sound like a goose!”

“The children might have to start calling you Papa Goose,” Petra snickered.

“Don’t give them any ideas, please,” he glared up at her.

“Aramys will come up with something worse.”

“She’s good at that, isn’t she? How can a six-year-old be so—“

“On the nose?”

Idan pressed his lips together firmly, “That’s not funny.”

“No,” she leaned down, her face dangerously close to his, “It’s hilarious.”

There was a soft, inviting smile on her lips. So often they were covered by lipstick—always the same shade of pink. Her natural lip color was so similar, he wondered why she ever wore it at all. With her head hovering inches above his, Idan was nearly overcome with the sudden desire to kiss her. This was the closest they’d been in years—The closest she’d let him be. One wrong move and she’d pull away—he’d lose his best friend again. No kiss was worth that.

He settled farther back against her legs, pushing himself back as far as he could.

“Is something the matter?” she asked in a whisper, bringing her mouth down to his ear. Her hand went back into his hair, cradling the side of his head as she lightly dragged fingers over the top of his ear. A shiver went down Idan’s spine, a considerably pleasant one considered the other things he’d been feeling today.

His voice caught on the saliva that had suddenly thickened in his throat, “No. Just a bit dizzy.”

“Dizzy?” she pressed her nose into the side of his cheek, pressing her lips lightly against his other ear.

“Dizzy.”

“We’ll just have to get blood to rush to your head,” she brought her lips down to his neck, breathing against it.

He giggled, tucking his chin into his neck as a hand went up into her hair, “What? Isn’t that the _opposite_ of what we want?”

It wasn’t his actual head she was speaking about, he realized, as he felt her fingers trail down his stomach and slide through the gap between his hips and the waistband of his trousers. She was speaking of a different head, entirely.

Oh.

_Oh._

That wasn’t the head he was thinking of.

“Petra,” he giggled again as the kisses she’d begun planting on his neck, tickled him, “My nose is broken.”

“Then we’ll stay away from your nose,” she said.

Her wandering hand had found what it was looking for, and Idan’s body gave an involuntary jolt.

“Eee! Oh, whoa, hey! You want… I mean, we—whaa-We haven’t since—Not since Aramys was boor—born--” his face was growing unbearably warm all of a sudden—He could feel his heartbeat in his bandaged nose. His tongue didn’t want to work either—nor did his head.

“I’m aware.”

“And you’re sure?”

“ _Idan_ ,” she lifted her head, one eyebrow arched higher than the other as she flipped her hair over her shoulder, “I wouldn’t be kissing your neck or holding your cock if I wasn’t.”

What was he doing? This was precisely what he was just thinking of, and now he was the one trying to slow down. Too afraid to accidentally push her away again. Her hand squeezed him as if to affirm her intent.

Now or never.

“That’s fair,” he said, pulling her mouth to his—but his nose once again reminded him it was broken, “Agh!”

“I’ll stay away from—“

“From the nose, yes.” he grumbled, letting her go, “Your fingers are freezing.”

Petra let out an aggravated groan as she thumped her head against his chest, “Do you want to do this or not?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “Very much, yes.”

“Then, shh!” she lifted her head quickly enough to make her hair splay out like a canopy around her shoulders. She brought her face an inch from his scowled, upside down to his perspective, but he understood it well enough.

“Got it.”

“Okay—“

“I’ll be quiet.”

“ _Idan._ ”

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat as her fingers tightened around him, “Sorry.”

He thought of making a joke, he felt like there was a tension that needed to be relieved. One about it being a miracle that he’d managed to get Petra pregnant the first time would have been funny. If the kind of tension he was experiencing could have been relieved by a joke.

**Author's Note:**

> my best friend Steph is the one who came up with Petra's line "we'll just have to make all the blood rush to your head." ahahaha you have her to thank for that one!
> 
> It was just /such/ a Petra thing to say.


End file.
